


Desperate Times

by n7chelle



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Gen, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 09:12:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6977185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n7chelle/pseuds/n7chelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From <a href="http://fanficy-prompts.tumblr.com/post/133044370710/m-azing-korrakun-my-favorite-college">tumblr</a>:</p><blockquote>
  <p>my favorite college experience is when i had a 7am class and the kid next to me literally poured a monster energy drink into his coffee said “i’m going to die” and drank the whole thing</p>
  <p>#pick an otp imagine them meeting like this</p>
</blockquote>One particular human disaster comes to mind...
            </blockquote>





	Desperate Times

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh, 7am classes? *laughs until crying* As if! I made sure all of mine were after 9 at least.
> 
> This is in no way properly proofread. Do feel free to point out any mistakes.

There are a lot of good reasons to delay taking a required course. Maybe it didn't fit with the rest of her schedule. Maybe she wanted to take a particular section that always filled up too damn quickly, or with a certain professor. Whatever the reason, it didn't really matter; because Natasha's long-suffering advisor, a grizzled old vet-turned-professor unironically named Fury, informs her that under no circumstances would she be allowed to graduate this coming May if she didn't "sit her smart ass down in English 1000, already," and how had she managed to get through four years and a significant number of writing intensives--which _all_ listed English 1000 as a prerequisite--without it anyway? (Careful, deliberate, _meticulous_ planning, that's how.)

Of course it's the week before classes begin when they have this conversation. Of course there's only one section of the course left open when Natasha begrudgingly goes to register. So here she is, at 7:45 AM on a wet, overcast morning, slumming it with bleary-eyed freshman that haven't learned any better yet, that haven't realized there's nothing stopping them from scheduling all their classes after 10:00 AM. Or noon. Whenever.

The minute hand is crawling it's way towards the top of the hour when the seat on Natasha's left is claimed by a guy who's clearly not freshman-age and is also possibly a drug addict. His baggy clothing is well-worn in every sense of the word, the scent of mud and rain wafting up from his battered sneakers; he's clearly just at the tail end of either a black eye or a fractured cheekbone, and bandages cover the far side of his face from chin to eyebrow. His eyes are bloodshot, with dark, sleep-deprived bruising under his eyes that looks disturbingly permanent. His right hand--index and middle fingers buddy-taped--curls around a sweating 8oz can of Monster. In the other, a half-full grande from Starbucks, still faintly steaming.

The man glares grimly at the drinks in his hands. Or at least, he tries; there's only so much glaring can be done when one looks blazed out of their mind. Natasha registers the professor finally arriving from the corner of her eye, but her attention is caught in horrified fascination as Probably A Drug Addict empties the Monster into his coffee with a helpless kind of sigh, and then knocks back the entire revolting concoction in less than 30 seconds. Natasha's positive she heard him mutter, " _I'm going to die_ ," just beforehand.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on tumblr as ch3ru, y'know, if you do that sort of thing.


End file.
